


make love, break rules

by orphan_account



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Dark Continent arc compliant, M/M, Pining, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 08:57:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19422712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Leorio looks around at the new room Kurapika has brought him into. “This is…?”“No one is going to disturb us here,” the click of a lock makes something in Leorio’s gut churn. “A meeting room.”





	make love, break rules

**Author's Note:**

> um so after complaining to my boyfriend about how Angry i was about the leopika reunion (setting aside the fact that it only lasted for what, 3 pages? i miss my husband leorio so much) being too nonchalant, i realized i could play god and pull some strings to change it up a bit. cishets don't touch this and cis people you are all on thin ice.

If Leorio had to describe the atmosphere shared inside the Zodiac’s meeting room, it would be _tense_.

Nothing broke the rubberband-taut silence that stretched to the brink of snapping for the second hour now—4pm, his watch said, from where it peaked carefully from under the cuffs of his dress shirt—save for the soft hums as each member discussed matters silently. Cheadle liked order and discipline. Leorio doesn’t know how the afore in-charge conducted these meetings, but he’s sure they weren’t as much of a straight, tight affair.

The person sitting next to him—Leorio is still to learn names—gazed lazily at Cheadle who pointedly spoke with Mizai. _Pops_ of chewing gum bubbles from a girl a few seats down, clickety-clacks of the butt of a pen repeatedly hitting against the glass-cover of the table, the incessant nervous bouncing of Leorio’s own leg that brought with it a rustling sound—those and a couple more unnecessary noises were the only sounds cutting the tightened air like some sort of a pity party birthday cake.

And then, Leorio, of course, also has to address the man sitting across him.

In this high-strung, professional, fountain pens and clipped filed documents debacle, Kurapika managed to blend in perfectly, with his unkempt blonde hair and bored, analytical eyes.

The dark circles under said eyes seem to look only more fitting with each minute that passed by. Leorio could probably get used to seeing him in his now exhausted, ruffled hair, half-knotted tie persona—a complete 180 from the pretty blonde he shared space on a ship with. They’re doing it again now, in a couple of days, ‘Black whale’, Leorio remembers it’s called. Funny how much they’ve changed from then to now. Kurapika wouldn’t even meet his eyes despite the fact that Leorio sat right across from him—until he _does_.

It’s like a punch to the gut.

His eyes are dull, a tawny brown, too big for his face now paper pale. Leorio sees cheekbones and sharp planes. That’s not what Kurapika looked like. Kurapika was soft, pink cheeks and round shapes. The tired grey under his eyes and the drooping of his lids showed a different person. Leorio wonders if they still glowed as brilliantly red as they used to.

Kurapika doesn’t break eye contact. A challenge, it must be.

Papers get passed around. Leorio fumbles with his hands. A paper cut. It doesn’t hurt, but he wraps a tissue around it from the handy pack he always carried in his pocket anyway. It wouldn’t be appropriate to put a finger in his mouth in the middle of a professional meeting with his who-knows-what-we-are watching him so carefully.

The meeting gets adjourned.

Leorio doesn’t know the protocol of standing up and leaving the room.

The chair screeches silently when Kurapika stands up, posture tall and straight, and eyes hooded as they still stayed locked onto Leorio’s.

He wants something from him.

Leorio doesn’t know if what he can give would be enough to satisfy him.

He follows him, nevertheless.

Glass polished shoes, ill-fitted coats. Everything about Kurapika looks like a glass house on the brink of shattering. Leorio isn’t the type to throw rocks, but it’s infuriating to see him walk the hallways like he knew of no world outside, nothing of the boy who breathed the wild air and rode the backs of boars with childish glee.

Leorio wants to punch a wall.

“Would you like to sit down and talk?” his voice is clipped and poised.

Leorio looks around at the new room Kurapika has brought him into. “This is…?”

“No one is going to disturb us here,” the click of a lock makes something in Leorio’s gut churn. “A meeting room.”

Leorio breathes out slowly through his mouth. He rolls out a chair and takes a seat. It’s the one reserved for the head conducting the meeting, he guessed. It was comfortable and eased out a bit of the tension lining his shoulders.

Kurapika stands.

“So—” _croaky_ , clears his is throat, tries again “how’s it going,” the words grate against Leorio’s throat as he says them. He doesn’t want an answer to that, not with the way Kurapika looked.

“Could be worse,” such a Kurapika-like thing to say. Leorio would’ve smiled, if the situation was anything but this. “Yourself?”

A hum of silence. And then,

“Gon almost died, you know?”

Perhaps he hadn’t expected Leorio to say something grim flat out. He doesn’t let any emotion of surprise show, though. “I heard. I’m glad he’s doing okay.”

“I called you a million times—did you even listen to the voicemails I left you? It was a _genocide_ , Kurapika. A loved one of mine—and yours, I don’t know where Gon stands in your life but I wouldn’t forgive you if it’s anything less than someone precious—he almost—no, he _actually_ died. Where were you? He _needed_ you, Kurapika,” his voice cracks a bit, dissolving into a whisper. “ _I_ needed you.”

This undoes something in him. It doesn’t show, but Leorio knows, because even after all this, he’s still the one who knows Kurapika the best. And with how his chest stutters under the creased, oversized shirt, Leorio knows he’s listening.

“I’m sorry.”

Leorio sighs. “Say that to the boy in flesh, not me, Kurapika.”

“No,” he takes a step closer. Leorio wants to tear off his ugly, ill-fitted suit and tie. “I’m sorry.”

His lips are a healthy pink. Leorio sees no colour to his cheeks, but the room lit with nothing but the rays of the golden-hour spilling in cast a healthy orange glow to his skin. If it’s an illusion, Leorio is still willing to take it. He is still _so_ beautiful…

Leorio huffs out a soft laugh. Of course, _he’d_ think that.

There’s a confused look in Kurapika’s eyes.

Leorio lets his head tilt back, a tired, lazy smile on his lips. He’s still weak—a pathetically weak man against scarlet eyes and tangled blonde hair. It’s a conundrum—Kurapika also looks a tad bit younger, drowning in oversized clothing, all wide eyes, tousled hair and parted lips.

He wants to kiss him so bad.

“Are you,” a wet tongue swipes against his bottom lip. Leorio follows it with his eyes.

“Am I?”

“Are you mad at me?” there’s no embarrassment in his face.

Leorio could’ve teased him. The all mighty mafia kingpin, vulnerably asking if Leorio’s mad at him? That’s not something one got to see on the daily. “Why, are you intimidated?”

“No,” he takes another step closer, “because I want to kiss you.”

Leorio knew he was just humouring himself when he pretended he had the upper hand in this— _any_ —situation with Kurapika. And call it foolishness or devotion, but Leorio doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to be the one having the upper hand. He’s willing to hand over all control to Kurapika, to do things at his pace.

Kurapika is a comforting weight on his lap. He rests his hands on either side of Leorio’s shoulders, gaze cursory and eager as it runs over each and every plane of his face, as if trying to photograph it to memory. It’s been long. They haven’t seen each other in so long. The parting at the airport didn’t even touch the surface of what they wanted to say to each other.

Aching and pining—ironically, it only seems to get worse the more they mature.

The tip of Kurapika’s index leaves feather-light touches across Leorio’s lips. He’s breathing through his mouth, eyes hooded and lips parted with want. If Leorio doesn’t get to kiss him now, he might burst.

Kurapika slides a hand down his chest, pausing to feel the hammering of his heart from under the layers of his suit. He looks up at Leorio, back down at his own hand. It continues sliding further down, and then he’s grabbing Leorio’s wrist and bringing it up to his face.

Leorio wishes he could just grab him and kiss him then and there—but he waits, because patience is something he’s attuned to now.

Kurapika wraps his lips around his thumb and _sucks_.

Leorio’s nerves are abuzz with electricity.

“Hey—”

He tongues the paper cut Leorio had gotten earlier, pushes it into his mouth and hollows his cheeks around it and sucks—noisily. The thick curtain of lashes fanning the tops of his cheeks now dusted with a bit of pink flutter up to look at Leorio, and said man _trembles_.

With a wet _pop_ , Kurapika pulls it out of his mouth and licks at the string of saliva. “You should be more careful.” His voice is raspy and laced with want.

Heat pools in the pit of Leorio’s stomach. There’s a painful strain in his crotch and Kurapika, who sat right on top of it, didn’t fail to notice. At least that’s what the barely noticeable grinding Kurapika teased him with suggested.

They’re taking it slow and steady.

Leorio rests his hand on Kurapika’s thigh. He cannot stop staring at his lips, wet and pink and plump and looking oh so awfully kissable.

Kurapika rocks his hips. Leorio’s hands on his thighs give him a squeeze. Kurapika smiles coquettishly with his eyes.

Slow and steady—Leorio wants to push him on top the desk and _wreck_ him.

Slow and steady—and then there are grabby fingers on his shirt collar and desperate lips pressing onto his own.

Leorio moans when restless fingers run through his hair, fisting the short, cropped locks to secure a position so Kurapika could push his tongue into his mouth. Leorio’s hands are rough and urgent as he runs him all over his body, squeezing his thighs and hips and spanning all over his chest and stomach.

Kurapika reluctantly pulls his hands out of Leorio’s hair to shuck off his own coat, still kissing him. It’s not enough. After discarding it, he relentlessly tugs at Leorio’s necktie—pulling, _yanking_ —in an effort to deepen the kiss, deeper and _deeper_ than it already is. It’s too much. It’s wet and hot and Leorio swallows Kurapika’s tongue and breathes him in and gropes every inch of his body but it’s _never_ enough.

They break the kiss. Kurapika’s open mouth stays pressed to his jaw, panting out hot puffs of air. Leorio throws his head back, staring up at the ceiling. His nerves are in a haywire, buzzing and crackling with electricity. Every touch of Kurapika’s skin against his feels like a shock. He’s a goner.

“Are we going to fuck here?”

The nonchalant vulgarity of the words combined with Kurapika’s voice used to give out professional commands is almost blasphemous. Leorio finds it kind of funny.

“I—” it’s much harder to talk when you can barely breathe. “don’t got any condoms on me.” Then it dawns upon him. He doesn’t have _any_ condoms. At all. “ _Fuck_ —we aren’t going to find them anywhere here.”

Kurapika slides off his lap. He has to hold onto Leorio’s shoulder while standing lest his knees should give out. Leorio stares amusedly, till he gets subjected to a deadly glare.

He grabs his discarded coat and pulls out a strip of 3 condoms, chucking it onto Leorio without an ounce of shame. Leorio bursts out laughing.

“Really? Is this why you pulled me in here?”

“None of your business,”

Leorio shakes his head in amusement. “Hey,” before he could chuck his coat again and join him, Leorio grabs his wrist. Kurapika quirks up an eyebrow. “Can’t I see your eyes?”

He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. If Leorio sees his blush, he doesn’t say anything.

“Okay.”

Then he’s pulling out the lenses case and disappearing into the washroom in the corner. The door clicks shut. No reason, just a habit. Leorio undoes his tie and slides it off his neck, along with the cufflinks and pins neatly holding his suit together. He picks up Kurapika’s own coat and drapes it on a chair along with his.

It’s when he pops off two of his top buttons that Kurapika joins him again.

_Kurapika_ , with his eyes bleeding red, shirt untucked and unbuttoned save for one by his chest, signalling he had taken off his binder while at it, and long blonde hair tucked to the side to reveal an earring. Leorio knows he wasn’t wearing it before.

“For old time’s sake.”

There’s a hint of shyness in his voice. Leorio’s heart is in his throat.

_You’re breathtaking_ , he wants to say, but the words instead fill the void in his chest emptied because his heart was busy bouncing around in his mouth.

Kurapika sinks down onto the office chair.

Leorio can’t _stop_ staring.

It must be something close to 5. The room is pitch dark but the floor to ceiling windows burn bright with the golden drops of sun pouring in. The red earring swishes as Kurapika tilts his head to the side. There’s a hurricane in his chest. Maybe he’s looking at it all with rose-coloured glasses, but nothing looks better than Kurapika safe and warm, bathing in the afternoon glow, here with him, right where he belongs.

“Have you perhaps made a change of mind?” the amusement in his voice suggests he knows that’s not the case.

“Sorry,” Leorio looks away, feeling a bit sheepish and bashful.

Kurapika grabs him by his shirt and pulls him down for a kiss again. Leorio slots himself between his thighs and props one hand on top of the chair to steady himself while the other carefully combs through the loosened knots of Kurapika’s hair. Leorio presses kisses onto his tongue and lips, continues to pepper them down his cheek, neck. Kurapika moans when he grazes his teeth against his ear and sucks it gently enough to have him squirming.

Leorio tucks his hair to one side and noses away the ruby earring so he could carefully kiss his neck. Kurapika’s fist is a comforting grip in his hair as Leorio bites and sucks at the sensitive skin. He pops open the last shirt button and Kurapika lets it slip off his shoulders.

Kurapika has never been the one to be vocal during sex—Leorio knows this because he had told him this when they were much younger and less fucked up than now. It had been a lie, of course, and more of a dignity thing, because it just took a sloppy job of fingering and eating him out to have him muffling watery screams into his fist.

Leorio still basks in the soft pleasured sighs that immediately cut into sharp intakes of breaths, as he gets down onto his knees and continues kissing his chest and stomach.

Kurapika’s fingers gently card through his hair. It’s comforting. Leorio presses his mouth against his stomach.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, thumb carefully caressing Leorio’s ear. He looks up at Kurapika. He looks like home, like comfort and warmth. That isn’t who he is now—at least for anyone who is not Leorio.

He looks too small for the chair. And he would’ve looked like he belonged there had he been dressed in suit and tie—but right now, with his hair ruffled prettily, eyes glowing red, face lightly flushed, with his ruby earring rocking against his cheek, he looks like a doll kept somewhere it doesn’t belong.

Leorio doesn’t tell him that. “Savouring,” he replies.

Kurapika huffs out something akin to a laugh. “I thought you’d know me better than that.”

Despite his words, he still sighed in pleasure as Leorio kissed and bit at his chest. “I like to think I do—I’m confident.”

Kurapika bites his lip as Leorio’s fingers pop open the buttons of his slacks and slide down the zipper.

“Oh _really_?” there’s heat spreading from his cheeks, down to his neck and chest. “For someone so cocky—adamant that he knows me well, you sure are— _ohh_ … _!_ ”

Leorio presses two fingers between his legs and rubs ever so gently. Kurapika lets his head fall back and eyes slide shut as Leorio continued stroking him, stopping to grind the heel of his palm against his clit, gentle yet hard enough to have Kurapika tightening his grip on his bicep.

“ _Oh_ that’s good,” Kurapika sighs, propping his legs on the seat handles to spread wider. “But you can be rougher than that,” his eyes flutter open, pools of scarlet that illuminate the tops of his cheeks with fluorescent pink. “Right?”

Kurapika carefully watches the tightened bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows. “Yeah,”

Leorio helps him slide his pants off so that he’s in nothing but the oversized white shirt that pooled at his wrists. Leorio feels his face burning pink. It’s not that he’s shy, and this is not his first time seeing Kurapika like this. But there’s a difference between the boy he awkwardly made out with behind the examiners’ backs in closed off spaces versus the man who now had him on his knees between his legs, eyes glinting a dangerous scarlet.

Flames of arousal lick at his gut. He wonders if Kurapika feels the same, as he hooks his legs over his shoulders and buries his face between his thighs.

Kurapika jolts in his hold. Leorio flattens his tongue and licks a fat stripe across his dripping lips. He tries to keep it less sloppy, but it’s hard to keep things neat when Kurapika squeezes his thighs around his ears and tugs at his hair with urgency. There’s still no sound though, other than broken pants and soft squeaks and moans.

Stubborn little thing.

Leorio’s face is half wet by the time he’s pushing his middle finger in. Kurapika’s thighs quiver over his shoulders, whisper-like sobs muffled into the fist shoved into his mouth as Leorio rolls his tongue over his clit and curls his finger.

“ _Leo_ … _Leorio_ —”

The fist in his hair is tight and clammy. The office chair squeaks as Leorio picks up his pace after pushing in a second finger. Kurapika jerks and squirms and lets out watery gasps despite the palm stubbornly pressed to his mouth. Leorio strains against his boxers rather painfully. Kurapika doesn’t let him have control for so long unless he _tells_ him he’s going to—so Leorio simply waits for the time he takes it all into his hands.

And it comes, mere seconds later.

The fist in his hair tilts up his head a bit. Leorio continues eating him out, except he pulls out his fingers, now unbelievably wet and sticky.

“Is this— _oh…!_ ” Leorio likes that Kurapika can’t even speak clearly, “o _—_ okay?”

All Leorio does is give an encouraging squeeze to his thigh as an answer, and then Kurapika is abandoning all morals and taking matters into his own hands.

Leorio growls low in his throat when Kurapika pushes his face into his dripping heat and _ruts_ into his mouth.

The drawled out moan that spills out of Kurapika’s lips is far more erotic than it should’ve been, for someone sliding half-way down his office chair while getting eaten out by his co-worker in a workspace.

Leorio wishes nothing but to see him right now, with his mouth dropped open and eyes squeezed shut while he rides his face. Broken moans, hitched pants, wet squelches and Leorio’s own heavy breathing fill the room now growing dimmer and dimmer.

Kurapika’s hips jerk and stutter as he thrusts Leorio’s tongue in and out of him rapidly, shuddering every time Leorio _groans_ and sets off pleasurable vibrations.

“ _Oh_ —oh god—leo— _oh_!—”

Leorio wets two fingers and shoves both in at the same time.

Kurapika _sobs,_ curling his body over Leorio’s head, muffled screams and moans dissolving into wanton sobs as Leorio mercilessly finger fucks him till his thighs shake.

When Kurapika cums, he thrashes in Leorio’s hold, nails dragging down his back and body jolting and rolling. His hips rock on Leorio’s fingers as he rides out his orgasm desperately. Soft, watery squeaks and murmurs of Leorio’s name spill past his lips as his body trembles.

The fist in his hair loosens, and Leorio finally looks up.

Bright red pools of rouge burning like fire greet him first thing. Kurapika is still trembling, with his head thrown back and chest stuttering and heaving unevenly. The red glow spilling onto the apples of his cheeks blend perfectly with the fresh, healthy ruddiness of his face.

Leorio wipes his chin and mouth with the back of his hand. Kurapika’s hooded eyes stare at him with an unreadable look. Leorio feels nervous and clammy all of a sudden. Then he smiles, tired and exhausted and still panting. Leorio returns it. Kurapika hums contentedly when Leorio brings up a hand to brush away the damp bangs sticking to his forehead and cheeks.

Kurapika’s hands are warm when he wraps them around his wrist. Gentle, tender, as he tucks it by his neck so Leorio’s knuckles brush against the dangling earring. Wet lips graze the inside of his palm softly. Kurapika’s lashes flutter prettily, illuminated both by the red of his eyes and the gold of the setting sun. He stares right at him, pink, soft, vulnerable and so so lovely.

“My angel,” the words that spill out of Leorio’s lips weigh with all the love and emotion he’s kept in for so long. Kurapika used to _hate_ it when Leorio would call him that, but now his face softens with fondness for the man down on his knees, ready to give him anything he asks for. Leorio feels sweet pain in his chest. He doesn’t have to wonder if it’s the same for Kurapika, because he knows. “You’re so breathtaking.”

Kurapika kisses him again. Lips against lips, chest against chest. His arms and legs wrap around him securely when Leorio picks him up and lays him down on the table.

Angelic. Blonde hairs splay out on the glass covering like a golden halo. Kurapika tilts his head to the side with a pretty smile.

“C’mere,”

Leorio does.

Kurapika moans and sighs into his mouth as he touches him everywhere, running his hands across his chest, stomach, thighs. His fingers card through Leorio’s hair and caress his jaw and reach down to fumble with the buttons of his shirt.

“Off… _!_ ”

Leorio chuckles. He presses one last kiss to Kurapika’s open mouth and then stands up to his full height to pop open the buttons of his shirt in rapid succession. Kurapika’s eyes glint dangerously as they rake all over his body. Leorio shrugs off his shirt and chucks it onto the floor. Kurapika meets his eyes.

“Like what you see?” Leorio smiles rather smug.

Kurapika watches his fingers deftly work open his belt—also his definitely visible erection. The thumb being bitten between his teeth is wet.

Leorio pulls off the belt and lets it fall onto the floor along with his office slacks. The condoms Kurapika had chucked onto him earlier are found by the foot of the table.

He hears Kurapika’s breath hitch when he pulls down his boxers and lets his erection spring free. If Leorio wanted to be composed, he really does try his best. Having his own hand wrapped around and stroking him gets him close to the edge itself, but he breathes to calm himself down, concentrating on tearing open the foil and slipping on a condom instead.

Kurapika kisses him hard and desperate when he leans close enough. Leorio feels the urgency and rush in his chest, gut, veins. It’s insane—the way Kurapika arches and curls around him, pulling and wrestling him closer and closer, as physically possible, as if he wants to get swallowed by Leorio’s body that’s already pressed flush against his own soft chest. 

Leorio rubs the heat between his thighs. Kurapika lets his legs drop to the sides—too turned on to be embarrassed about how exposed it left him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” something in Kurapika’s gut twists at that. He cracks an eye open at the stuttered breath Leorio takes. “You’re—so wet,”

Kurapika tries to ignore how his words only make him wetter. Leorio’s fingers are rough enough to create an aching, delicious friction against the sensitive skin of his clit and folds. Kurapika feels heat burn his cheeks as he slides his own hand between his legs.

“What’re you doing,” Leorio’s voice is a barely audible murmur against his jaw. Kurapika’s breath hitches when he pushes two fingers into himself easily.

“ _Ohh_ ,” it’s a guttural moan, rumbling low in his chest. Leorio smiles against his neck.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” Leorio’s thumb continues playing with his clit when he also pushes in a digit. Kurapika suddenly has three fingers in him and the gasp that tears out of his throat is something clearly out of his control.

The dull throb in his core only feels warmer and slicker. Leorio’s finger matches the thrusts of Kurapika’s own.

“Ah—I’m— _Leorio_ , I’m—”

“Take it out,” Leorio whispers. “I’ll give you something better.”

Kurapika snorts at that, and Leorio laughs along.

“Whatever just,” he sighs when he slips his fingers out of himself. Leorio replaces it with another one of his, easily making up for two of Kurapika’s. “Just _fuck_ me already.”

Leorio licks at his bitten lip. Yeah, okay. He just likes to be nice.

Leorio lines himself and pushes his head in carefully, trembling at the hot, wet clutch that envelops him immediately. Kurapika’s chin is tucked to his neck as he looks down at where Leorio’s cock is slipping into his dripping folds, mouth dropped open and eyebrows knitted with pleasure.

Nails dig into his bicep as Leorio pushes in deeper. Red colours Kurapika’s cheeks brighter and brighter. Leorio gives a small thrust. Kurapika’s breath hitches.

“Lie down,”

Kurapika does as told, surprisingly. Leorio knows it must hurt—Kurapika is small and Leorio is big, to say the least.

So he lets the sharp nails dig deep enough to mark as he continues pushing in.

“Does it hurt?” Leorio licks two fingers and reaches his hand between their bodies. His pointer finger and thumb pinch and roll Kurapika’s clit—and Kurapika _purrs,_ body rolling and eyes sliding shut.

“ _Mmnm_ …feels good—go— _ah_ —deeper,”

Kurapika’s head is thrown back, the column of his neck exposed and mouth dropped open in a silent moan by the time Leorio is all the way in him. It takes all the control in him to not fuck him right there with how tight and wet Kurapika feels around him. The skin of his forearm burns from when Kurapika had dragged his nails down the length in the middle of adjusting to the dull throb inside of him.

“Does it hurt?” Leorio repeats. Sweat dampens both their foreheads. Leorio reaches up a trembling hand to brush away the hair plastered to Kurapika’s face and neck.

Instead of replying, Kurapika rolls his hips, shuddering at the pleasure.

“So— _good_ ,” his cheeks are flushed bright pink. Leorio adjusts himself and gives a shallow thrust.

He was going to take it slow—really, Leorio missed him and he wanted to enjoy every second of this for as long as he could. But then Kurapika his grabbing him by the back of his neck and pulling him down so their faces are levelled, eyes a searing hot red and voice laced with strict authority when he says,

“ _Leorio_.”

That’s all he needs to be told, and then he’s hooking one of Kurapika’s legs over his shoulder and fucking into him ceaselessly.

Both their moans and gasps fill the room along with the wet squelches and the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Leorio feels beads of sweat crawl down the crease of his back and throat and everything is too hot and too damp and Kurapika’s body is soft and _soaked_ and he’s panting and sobbing and arching up against Leorio’s chest and then they’re kissing—messy and sticky and wet all over. Leorio feels a tongue against his cheek and jaw and teeth nibbling his lobe.

It’s far too erotic watching the way Kurapika’s eyes roll to the back of his head when the pleasure gets too much. Leorio plays with his clit, presses hot wet kisses down chest, buries his face into the crook of his neck and continues fucking up into him.

Kurapika’s fists are both gentle and iron-clad on his hair. Leorio likes the sting, he likes knowing that Kurapika is here with him, flesh and bone.

“Kurapika,” he breathes out, 4 syllables taking a lungful of air with how much they meant. _“_ Kurapika, _Kurapika_ — _Kurapika_ —”

Leorio wants to cry—or scream. He doesn’t know. But Kurapika is pressing his lips to his forehead and rolling his hips against him and squeezing around him and Leorio isn’t even capable of having a proper train of thought.

Kurapika’s thighs shake when he cums. Leorio breathes out a string of curses at how tightly Kurapika squeezes around him, all dissolved by Kurapika’s own muffled gasp and whimpers. That’s all it takes to undo Leorio and he’s riding out his own orgasm, face buried in Kurapika’s neck.

It’s silent for a few seconds, nothing other than their heavy breathing filling the dampened air in a room now darkened with the oncoming evening.

Leorio pulls out of him and Kurapika almost makes an annoyed noise—but stops himself. He can’t help but grin with satisfaction. Kurapika looked flushed and soaked and absolutely well-fucked.

Leorio pulls off the condom and chucks it into the nearest bin. Yeah they’re probably going to get caught and all hell will break loose when he has both Cheadle and Mizai breathing down his neck but for now he doesn’t really care—and it’s _kind_ of valid considering he _was_ almost the chairman at one point too.

Kurapika making another frustrated noise catches his attention. He throws a questioning look at him.

“I’m _too_ —”

Leorio pulls out the pack of tissues from his slacks discarded onto the floor and wipes Kurapika as much as he could with facial wipes. “This has to do for now,”

Kurapika grumbles something under his breath but stays still until he’s as cleaned up as he could be.

And even despite it, he looks gorgeous and heart-stoppingly angelic. Leorio thinks he really might be losing it. Kurapika often makes him want to do crazy things, like scream from the tops of the highest buildings about how much he wants and loves him, or write poems upon poems about how he wishes Kurapika could _see_ how much he _needs_ him. Maybe he’ll take up painting too. Kurapika looks ethereal and Leorio doesn’t think it’s impossible to imagine him splashing paint and water onto thousands of canvases traced with images of Kurapika smiling and looking pretty and angelic.

“What are you thinking about?” Kurapika asks once he sits up and pulls his shirt to button it up. It’s rumpled and doesn’t do much to help hide the marks on his neck. He locks eyes with him, “Leorio?”

“Painting you,” he says.

Kurapika stares at him to maybe detect a ‘ _just kidding_ ’ on his face. “Really? What an honour.”

Leorio is being harshly tugged into a kiss then. It’s rough and soft, and it lasts a few seconds and then Kurapika’s pulling away. His fingers leave feather-light touches as they drift across the planes of his face, trace over his eyes, nose, jaw—playfully stroking the stubble, which earns him a chuckle from Leorio.

“We’ll be boarding day after,”

His finger traces the jut of Leorio’s bottom lip. Leorio has half mind to bite it.

“I know,” it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “We won’t be able to see one another for the whole duration of the sail.”

“We’re both going to be busy,” Kurapika’s words sound like hazy whispers, like he’s on the verge of drifting to sleep as he speaks to Leorio. Suddenly, a little laugh bubbles from his throat.

Leorio smiles amusedly. “What is it?”

“I was thinking,” he tilts his head to the side. “The first time we were on a ship together was while travelling to the Hunter Exam—a lot has changed— _you_ sure have changed from then.”

Leorio groans. “ _Don’t_ , Kurapika.”

“It’s cute—young Leorio was cute.”

“You haven’t changed much, I think—not much from the young spitfire who was ready to take my life in the middle of a sea storm.”

They hadn’t known each other then—they hadn’t even _wanted_ to spend time with one another. But they still ended up doing so anyway. It’s funny how the events and needs then clashed so perfectly with their current situation.

There are a hundred things Leorio wants to ask him. He has so many questions and in need of so many answers and he _wants_ to know if he’s waiting in vain—for a future that doesn’t even exist. But he knows nothing Kurapika would say would change the fact that he’s still going to pine for him, he’s still going to wait for him to be done with all this and come back home into his arms. And that’s it.

“After all this,” Leorio says, voice strained, “you’ll come back to me, right?”

Kurapika’s eyes are wide with surprise.

And then he shuts them and smiles.

“If you still want me after all this—then yes,”

The look on Leorio’s face must be funny, because Kurapika snorts in amusement.

“What do you mean—do you _know_ how _much_ I—okay, never mind. I’ll drill it to your head once all of this is done,” his voice softens. “once you’ve accomplished it all, I’ll have all the time in the world to remind you just how much you mean to me.”

Kurapika kisses him. He kisses his nose, forehead, cheeks.

“Hey—you’re not trying to distract me are you?”

Kurapika hums. His lips feel like home when he slots them between Leorio’s.

“ _Kurapika_.”

“Yes,” he pulls away and busies himself with taking off his earring. “Heard you—you have my permission.”

Leorio takes over the task instead, fully concentrated and dedicated in untangling the hair stuck to it. “Good. For now,” he grins, looking at Kurapika, “May I have the royal privilege of asking you out for lunch?”

Kurapika accepts the ruby earring Leorio places onto his palm with a smile. “Your time is limited, but sure.”


End file.
